' समोऽहं सर्वभूतेषु न मे द्वेष्योऽस्ति न प्रियः ।' ....( Bhagwad Gita 9.29 opening line )
(I am equal toward all beings, To Me none is hateful, none beloved.)
IS THE UNIVERSE REALLY INDIFFERENT?
To
say that the universe is indifferent does not mean that it is unkind, hostile,
or deliberately unjust. Indifference is not malice. Rather, it names something
quieter and more unsettling: the universe does not recognise us in the way we
recognise one another. It does not attend to individual hopes, moral effort,
suffering, or innocence. Earthquakes do not discriminate between saints and
sinners; diseases do not spare children; accidents do not consult merit before
striking. Events unfold according to impersonal processes, without regard for
human meaning.
This
idea unsettles us because human beings are moral and relational creatures. We
expect concern, fairness, or at least explanation, especially when suffering
appears undeserved. When these expectations meet the silence of the world, the
gap feels intolerable. The claim that the universe is indifferent emerges
precisely from this gap between what we feel ought to matter and what the
universe appears to acknowledge.
Importantly,
this perception does not arise solely from pessimism. It arises from honest attention
to reality as it presents itself. Natural laws operate without intention. Stars
explode, species vanish, and individual lives end without ceremony or
justification. The universe neither rewards virtue nor punishes brutality. It
neither consoles nor condemns. It simply unfolds. That absence of concern is
what indifference means.
Albert Camus articulated this condition with unforgettable
clarity. For Camus, the human being is a meaning-seeking creature trapped in a
world that offers no answers. He called this confrontation the absurd; the
clash between our longing for meaning, justice, and clarity and “the unreasonable silence of the world”.
When tragedy strikes, the universe does not explain itself. It does not justify
suffering or promise redemption. Camus rejected both religious consolation and
nihilistic despair. His response was revolt: a lucid refusal to lie to
ourselves, paired with a stubborn affirmation of life and human solidarity
despite cosmic indifference.
Jean-Paul Sartre pushed this insight in a more radical
direction. If the universe is indifferent, Sartre argued, then it provides no
predefined meaning, essence, or moral script. Human beings are “condemned to be free”. There is no God
or cosmic order to tell us what we are; existence comes first, and essence must
be created through action. This radical freedom is not comforting. It is
anguishing. In an indifferent universe, every choice rests entirely on our
shoulders. Yet Sartre insists that this very absence of cosmic concern is what
makes human responsibility absolute. If the universe will not care for us, then
we must care for ourselves and for others.
Arthur Schopenhauer, writing a century earlier, reached a darker
conclusion through metaphysics rather than existential ethics. For him, the
ultimate reality beneath appearances is the Will, a blind, restless striving
that manifests as nature, desire, and life itself. Individuals are fleeting
expressions of this Will and have no privileged metaphysical status. Suffering
is not an anomaly but the normal condition of existence. The universe is
indifferent because it is not guided by reason, compassion, or moral purpose,
but by endless, unsatisfied striving.
Soren Kierkegaard accepted much of this diagnosis but refused
to let it be the final word. He agreed that the objective universe offers no
secure meaning for the individual. Science explains how things happen, not why
they should matter. Ethical systems cannot guarantee harmony between virtue and
happiness. This leaves the individual exposed to anxiety and despair. Yet for
Kierkegaard, this exposure is precisely where authentic existence begins.
Meaning is not discovered in the universe but forged inwardly through a
passionate relationship with God, achieved by a leap of faith. The universe’s silence
becomes the stage on which faith acquires its urgency.
Eastern
philosophies approach cosmic indifference by questioning the assumptions that
make it so painful. Buddhism begins
with the recognition of Dukkha (suffering ), the
pervasive unsatisfactoriness of existence. But suffering, in Buddhism, does not
point to a cruel or neglectful universe. Reality operates through dependent
origination: causes and conditions give rise to effects without intention or
moral judgement. There is no cosmic agent who cares or neglects. Suffering
intensifies when we cling to permanence in a world defined by impermanence.
Nagarjuna, one of Buddhism’s most profound philosophers, radicalised this
insight through the doctrine of emptiness (Shunyata). He argued that all
phenomena, including the self, lack inherent, independent existence. The
question “Why is the universe
indifferent to me?” presupposes a solid self-standing apart from a solid
world. Nagarjuna dissolves this opposition. Once we abandon reified notions of
self and reality, the sense of cosmic abandonment weakens. Indifference, on
this view, is not a fact of existence but a misunderstanding of how things
exist.
The
Bhagavad Gita offers another
response that speaks powerfully to modern anxieties. Sri Krishna teaches Arjuna
that the world of action is governed by Prakṛti
and Karma, impersonal forces that do not bend to individual emotions or
expectations. The universe does not care whether actions bring pleasure or
pain. Suffering arises when we bind our identity to outcomes. The solution is
not to demand meaning from the cosmos, but to act without attachment (Niṣhkaama
Karma) and recognise the deeper self that remains untouched by success and
failure. Cosmic indifference, here, becomes a condition for spiritual freedom.
The Upanishads go even further by
challenging the very notion of individuality that makes indifference
distressing. At the deepest level, they teach that Atman (the true self) is identical with Brahman (ultimate reality). If this is so, then the universe cannot
be indifferent to the self, because there is no ultimate separation between the
two. What appears as neglect or abandonment belongs to ignorance (Avidya), not
to reality itself. With realisation comes release from the anxiety of being
uncared for.
Kashmir Shaiva philosophy offers perhaps the most
affirmative vision of all. According to this tradition, reality is Shiva: pure,
self-aware consciousness endowed with absolute freedom (swatantrya). The
universe is not an indifferent mechanism but a dynamic self-expression of consciousness,
a cosmic play (Leela). Apparent indifference arises when consciousness freely
contracts itself and experiences the world from a limited, egoic perspective.
From this narrowed view, the universe feels uncaring. From the standpoint of
ultimate awareness, nothing lies outside consciousness itself. Indifference is
not a property of reality but the consequence of partial vision.
Across
cultures and centuries, thinkers converge on a sobering insight: the universe
does not care about individuals in the way individuals care about one another.
Yet they diverge profoundly in their responses. Camus urges revolt, Sartre
insists on responsibility, Schopenhauer counsels renunciation, Kierkegaard
points to faith, Buddhism dissolves attachment, Nagarjuna dismantles
metaphysical assumptions, the Bhagwad Gīta teaches detached action, and Kashmir
Shaivism affirms cosmic consciousness.
Perhaps
the deepest lesson is this: meaning and compassion are not guaranteed by the
structure of the cosmos. They are ethical and spiritual achievements forged in
a world that neither promises nor forbids them. The universe may be indifferent,
but how we respond to that indifference remains, unmistakably, our own
responsibility.
( Avtar Mota )
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.
















































